Infractus
by Chronarch
Summary: Join us for the tragic story of a group of Spartans-IIIs of Beta Company from the beginning to the end.
1. Prologue

HALO

INFRACTUS

**PROLOGUE**

1135 HOURS, JULY 3RD, 2545 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \ 51 PEGASI-B SYSTEM, TARGET AREA APACHE, PLANET PEGASI DELTA

_Crash!_

The Orbital Insertion Pod impacted with the force of a thousand stampeding rhinos; the impact sent debris rocketing in every direction as another three Insertion Pods hit the dirt just as violently as the first. Jack allowed himself a second to let the disorientation pass, the transition from Slipstream space to normal space had left him heavily disoriented. He shook his head as stars swam majestically across his eyes (concealed under the polarised visor of his helmet); collected his wits; grabbed his MA5K Carbine and kicked the titanium blast door of the pod open.

The battlefield of Pegasi Delta could have been mistaken for hell itself. The chemicals from the Covenant's plasma reactors had made the sky burn a fiery red, the ground was covered in blackened rocks and the sand was being blown everywhere - growing increasingly thicker so that the light of the crisp orange sun could hardly penetrate it.

_No,_ Jack broke away from the scene, his training kicking in. _There's a job to do, the mission comes before fear..._

Operation: TORPEDO was the plan to eliminate a Covenant refinery on Pegasi Delta. The chemicals deuterium and tritium were extremely plentiful on the planet; the Covenant harvested them for use in their plasma reactors, an excellent place for the Covenant to make a shipping port to refuel. To make matters worse, Pegasi Delta was right on the edge of UNSC space - allowing the Covenant such a vantage point would mean a quick and bloody end to the Human-Covenant War. That was not acceptable.

This mission was imperative to the continued survival of the human race.

_No pressure then,_ Jack thought to himself.

"Fall out, Sierra," Jack ordered; pointing at large rocks, their enormous bulk would provide adequate cover. "Plasma mortars incoming, scatter!"

The sky was suddenly full of large blue orbs of superheated plasma, likely fired from Covenant Wraith tanks. After a moment of being suspended in terror, Jack exhaled a sigh of relief that the mortars had missed them by a long shot - impacting about thirty meters behind them and creating large smouldering craters in the ground.

Jack switched his visor display to TEAMBIO, a grid displaying the health condition of his team. _Everyone alive and green,_ he gave a short smile. _Good._ However, he noticed that nine of the three-hundred SPARTAN-IIIs had not made the drop - their status now moved to MIA... _Spartans never die..._

Switching back from TEAMBIO; Jack looked around for his fellow Spartans, the Spartans of Team Sierra: B215, Miranda; B129, Darius (nicknamed _'Dare'_) and B006, Elliott. Their IFF tags flashed up on his HUD.

Jack was about to issue the order to move out, but was interrupted by a convoy of Seraph fighters flying overhead. The teardrop-shaped craft weren't designed for battles _inside_ an atmosphere, but they were still deadly against ground infantry with insufficient firepower to fight back.

But Team Sierra _did_ have the firepower to fight back. Darius - the heavy weapon and explosives specialist of Sierra - raised his M19-B SAM Launcher and took a steady aim on the leading Seraph craft. Smoke billowed out the back of the tubes as the rocket was propelled towards its target, the Seraph's shields absorbed the blow but the craft had lost its flight pattern with the convoy and came crashing down towards the rocks - the air now full with a cloud of blue-purple plasma fumes.

"Engage stealth systems, Sierra," Jack ordered. The photoreactive panels on their SPI suits shimmered and reflected the burning barren environment around them.

"Eyes ahead," Elliott called over TEAMCOM. "Enemy contacts, three Grunts and a single Elite."

"Take out the leader," Jack ordered. There was a sharp _crack_ from Elliott's Sniper Rifle and a sudden outburst of high-pitched yells as the Grunts panicked and scattered over the sight of their dead leader.

"Nice shot. Bastard didn't even have his shields up," Darius chuckled.

"Stay focused, Dare," Jack said; he'd been with Team Sierra for over six years, but he was still in command and had to keep them on-task. _A Spartan should be ever vigilant, always focused! _The bark of Mendez sounded in the back of his skull.

The sky gave a low grumble, there were several bright white flashes and dozens of Seraphs streaked over the battlefield. A torrent of blue plasma dropped from above like rain; Team Sierra - though well camouflaged in their SPI suits - didn't want to take any chances, they each sprang apart and took cover from the three-thousand degrees C blobs raining down upon them.

"Let's make our way up the hill," Miranda called to the team. Green acknowledgement lights appeared on Jack's visor and they sprinted flat-out up a large hill that had been blocking the rest of the battlefield from view.

As they climbed higher and higher, a dazzling blue light became more and more visible. Jack felt it sting his eyes and the image burned into his retinas, even with maximum visor polarisation the Covenant refinery was a chore to look at.

"Jack, we've got hostile contacts," Miranda pointed down at over a dozen Jackals forming a phalanx with their rounded energy shield gauntlets.

"Grenades?" Jack barked over the noise of the Seraph bombardment above.

"Aye, sir," Dan drew out two fragmentation grenades and threw them with remarkable accuracy. The Jackals screeched in pain as their phalanx was broken apart by a burst of fire and shrapnel; their blood splattered the rocks and sand around them.

"Move up, we'll take care of the rest of them," Jack declared to his Spartans, he was once again greeted by green acknowledgment signs.

Jack began to sprint down the hill, the sand being thrown up to his visor - but he didn't care. _This_ is what he'd been training for. He tackled the first Jackal head on; it tumbled to the ground and barely had time to identify its attacker before a quick burst of Jack's MA5K silenced it. He pulled out his Combat Knife (concealed in a holster on his shoulder) and began to viciously hack away at the bastards who had torn his childhood apart.

Miranda delivered a heavy punch to another Jackal's face, the creature recoiled and opened its mouth - exposing its disgusting maw and razor-sharp teeth - in a vicious cry as she used the end of her Shotgun (like a sledgehammer) to deliver a final, neck-breaking blow. She snatched up two Point Defence Gauntlets from her fallen foes and strapped it on to her wrist - she threw the other to Jack, who caught it expertly in the air.

"Check it out," Elliott exhaled over TEAMCOM. Jack quickly understood what his squad mate was talking about; several dozen Spartans were sprinting down the hill in different Fire Teams and darting towards the factory.

_Damn it, no!_ A flustered Jack felt his blood boil. _They're all going to be killed..._

Jack switched his HUD to display the IFF tag of every active Spartan in battle, the number had dropped from 291 to 258; the Seraphs were certainly making short work of the resistance. To make matters worse, something was shifting towards them all through the sand, what looked like over a hundred shadowy silhouettes were marching towards them - hidden behind dust clouds and grains of sand swept-up from the battle.

The acknowledgment lights of his team flared red, Jack could tell that they too felt the same as he did - that this was more than they had bargained for.

"Shit," Dan grimaced. An entire legion of Jackals with Beam Rifles (the Covenant equivalent of a UNSC Sniper Rifle) and Elites were coming into battle. It was instantaneous; a volley of plasma and bullets quickly filled the air until nothing was visible apart from their continuous flashes.

"Orders?" Elliott asked, his tone shifting a little in anxiety. Elliott shook his head and made a silent vow to himself not to give into fear, not now.

"If we engage the Covenant head-on, we'll be slaughtered... We still have a mission to accomplish here, let's flank them - take out as many as we can - and hit that refinery!"

There was a deafening battle cry issuing from both Spartans and Covenant, screams and yells filled the air as blood was shed ravenously on both sides. Jack was stunned to see that the surviving number of Spartans had hit 200; this mission _could not_ be a failure!

The plan Team Sierra had formed was halted almost immediately, it was now they realised that Operation: TORPEDO could only end with the death of every Spartan in Beta Company. The clouds around the refinery had parted and colossal shadows moved over the surface of the warzone; seven Covenant Cruisers had arrived, this was never something they could compete with.

"We're screwed," Miranda groaned, her tone wavered a little but she was able to remain stoic.

Each Covenant Cruiser was 1.782 kilometres long and armed to the teeth with plasma weapons capable of knocking the planet out of orbit. Jack watched their lateral cannons charge up - the kind of lateral cannons that were used for capital ship combat, not ground bombardment... How could _anyone_ survive that? A distress signal had appeared on the HUD of every Spartan, the final emergency code that sent shivers down the spine of all who saw it: _Code Omega Three_.

Code Omega Three was the final panic code, the order to abandon the mission and run no matter what the cost. Dread plummeted into Jack's stomach; he was momentarily frozen with fear. Fear for himself, fear for his team, fear for his fellow Spartans... Fear for humanity. And then one thought entered his mind, overriding his training, his orders, his duty - it sunk into his very bones.

_Survive._

"What are we going to do?" Darius said through gritted teeth, TEAMBIO showed that they all had a large inflation of heart rate and Elliott was slipping into shock.

The Covenant ships were now dropping hundreds more troops from their Gravity Lifts to engage the remaining Spartans.

"We're not running away," Jack declared, putting a knee on the ground and leaning on his MA5K. "What will the Covenant see if we pull back now? _Cowards_, that's what. We can't survive this, hell we can't even _win_ this... but we can take down as many of _them_ as we can before it all ends. We fight to the last man!"

There was silence for a moment, the members of Team Sierra exchanged glances through their polarised visors. Jack felt - for a fleeting second - that they might ignore his orders and focus on getting as far away as they could. Finally, Miranda winked her status light green - followed by Darius and Elliott seconds after.

Jack felt stupid. _Of course they wouldn't run away_, he told himself. _We're a family; we look out for each other..._

"We fight," Elliott nodded.

"Until the bitter end," Darius concurred.

_Good soldiers, _Jack smiled. _Correction: good Spartans, each one of them willing to lay their lives down for each other._

They turned to face the battlefield once more; all fuelled by the thirst for revenge as the sight of over a hundred Spartans (their comrades) lay dead upon the ground.

They charged.

Darius emptied out his Rocket Launcher on two battle groups comprised of fifteen Elites; they soared into the air with their arms flailing like ragdolls. Jack and Miranda activated their stolen Shield Gauntlets and began sending volleys of bullets from their MA5Ks towards a horde of Grunts and Jackals; the way they fought felt so fluent, a rising feeling of satisfaction rose in them with every kill they made. It was then that a bittersweet fortune smiled upon them.

A blazing new cyan-coloured sun burst into life as the Covenant refinery shattered, the plasma energy arced outwards and engulfed the seven Cruisers in a hail of burning debris. Anything within a hundred feet of the refinery flash-vaporized, not even a bone was left on the battlefield. Seraph fighters were sent barrelling around in random directions, some collided with each other and others simply spiralled away towards the horizon. Operation: TORPEDO was a success, but at the cost of almost every Spartan from Beta Company.

This turning of events had a profound effect on the remaining Covenant warriors however, instead of pulling back in defeat they decided to stand their ground and fight to the last man.

_Just like us,_ Jack thought with a surprising amount of admiration. When _it comes down to it, we really are not that different._

Elliott was shaking his head in agony, he'd seen the refinery explode and was temporarily blinded... he never saw the dozens of purple needles arc towards him; each one impacted on his chest and legs, the combined explosion completely tore through his SPI armour - making Jack feel sick as his innards began pouring out - and sent him flying backwards by several meters. His helmet flew off and the last echoes of his victorious smile remained etched on his face.

"_NO!_" Darius cried for his fallen comrade. "_You bastards! You Covenant bastards!_"

Jack made to grab his friend to stop him; they could not lose team cohesion now. But he charged forwards in a kamikaze rage holding a detonator, he primed all his explosives and clicked the detonator. The explosion was deafening, the force of the detonation sent anyone within thirty meters caterwauling backwards against jagged rocks.

His blood ran cold, suddenly full of a substance he had not fully experienced before: _Grief._ He'd lost two Spartans, two _friends_ in a matter of seconds.

Miranda rushed towards Jack and helped him to his feet, dragging him away from the kill zone. Darius had wiped out the remaining Covenant in his rage, chunks of flesh were spread everywhere over a fifty meter radius... he couldn't tell what remains were human and which were Covenant.

"H... how many are left?" Jack wheezed, coughing up a mouthful of blood. They were alone now, the Covenant forces _all_ dead... along with the Spartans.

She checked the roster; she immediately chocked back a sob.

"Only four," she cried. "_Including_ us. L... let's get somewhere safe, shall we?"

"There is nowhere safe," Jack groaned, he felt a lump in his throat rising as he spoke; with every step he took the image of another dead Spartan clouded his vision. He felt sorrow grinding against his bones, the final stand of Beta Company - his friends.

_But we're alive;_ a voice spoke in the back of his mind. _We survived, we succeeded... We won... but at what cost?_

"Dare... And Elliott, that was..." Miranda couldn't finish her sentence, now giving in to her emotions and freely crying.

They walked for several minutes before stopping at a riverbank, each of them trembling in fear and sadness. They could not contact the last Black Cat subprowler for pick-up, and they were more than three kilometres away from it anyway.

"The other two?" Jack asked after a moment of silence.

"Tom and Lucy, they've left... They'll live to fight another day. We're marked as MIA... _Spartans never die_."

"If only that were true..."

Jack and Miranda pulled off their helmets - now splattered with the blood of their comrades and foes. He took hold of Miranda's hand and embraced her as they looked out over the battlefield of the fallen Beta Company. Everything they had worked for had lead up to this moment, their _final_ moment. Only the two of them could really understand and appreciate the magnitude of their last minutes as they cried in each others' arms, sitting on the blood-stained brink of destruction at the end of all things.

_But we are alive..._


	2. Section One: Spartan Training  1

**- SECTION ONE: SPARTAN TRAINING -**

**CHAPTER ONE**

2200 HOURS, AUGUST 2ND, 2538 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \ ZETA DORADUS SYSTEM, NEAR CAMP CURRAHEE, PLANET ONYX

The thrusters of the D77-TC Pelican pounded on the eardrums of the sixteen children sitting inside; none of them were talking, some were weeping silently in their seats whilst others sat stoic and green-faced - looking quite nauseated. The interior of the Pelican dropship was extremely dark; the only source of illumination radiated from buoyant blood-red auxiliary lamps covered over by titanium plating.

It was extremely cold in the troop bay of the dropship, a crisp icy breeze swept over the faces of the junior occupants of the Pelican - who were shivering and had brought their knees to their chests. It seemed like years were passing as they traversed over open terrain towards Camp Currahee.

At last, the Pelican had slowed to a halt and descended upon a landing pad surrounded by a circular pattern of orange lights. The children piled out and surveyed their surroundings, some looking at the hundreds of other children around them and looking nervous - but some had their eyes fixed on the two men standing in front of them.

"_It's a knight!"_ One of the children said in an awed tone.

"No way..." Another said with his mouth agape, staring in admiration at the seven foot tall man in front of him.

The children were led over to the man standing in the titanium green-coloured MJOLNIR armour, a sense of uncertainty coursed through the minds of the children as the man's face was hidden behind a polarised gold visor. The armour plates were bulky and angular; the shoulder pieces were curved and bulbous, and had the image of a black Greek Spartan helmet on it.

"Welcome to Camp Currahee," the knight in the green armour spoke. "My name is Kurt; I'm here to offer you the chance of a lifetime. I know of the contortions you've been through, that is why you are here; I'm offering you a chance to get revenge on the Covenant, a chance for you to become the best soldiers the UNSC has to offer, I'm giving you the chance to become like me: a Spartan."

A series of excited murmurs broke out amongst the hundreds of children; each one of them had been orphaned when the Covenant had come to their planets and killed their friends and family. They'd been taken by ONI operatives and brought to the planet Onyx to become super soldiers in secret, to make sacrifices that nobody would ever know about, to become unspoken expendable heroes.

"Not _all_ of you will be able to become Spartans, however," Kurt continued once the chatter amongst the children subsided. "The training you'll be receiving will show me which of you have it in yourselves to cope with whatever is thrown at you; my assistant - Senior Chief Petty Officer Mendez - and a team of drill instructors will be putting you through tests over the next few years to assess your strengths and develop your skills. Good luck to you all."

A tall balding man in a grey military fatigues stood beside Kurt and nodded to him; he had an extremely stern look on his face and the four hundred and eighteen candidates immediately got the message: _This was not a man to screw around with._

"You kids wanna be Spartans?" He suddenly barked at the children. When none of them replied, he turned to one and pointed at him. "_You_, I asked you a question! I guess we have ourselves a washo -"

The child clenched his fists and glared at Mendez; he was completely outraged and taken aback for being singled out.

"I wanna be a Spartan, I wanna kill Covenant!" The child growled; his head bowed towards the floor.

"What's your name, son?" Mendez asked, lowering his tone a little.

"J... Jack, sir."

"Then get the hell back in that Pelican; you're going for a night-time drop! _All of you!_"

The children were lead off in single file back to their Pelicans by the Drill Instructors; each one of the children were looking a little apprehensive as they flew ten feet, twenty feet... fifty feet into the air before coming to a stop several hundred feet above the place they'd just landed.

Each one of them was handed a backpack with dual red cords hanging down the shoulder area; the Drill Instructors had told them - some with smiles on their faces that were _not _reassuring - that they were going to be jumping out the back of the Pelican and would have to land in one of the areas with the green flare (as they said it, a trail of lime green smoke wafted into the night).

"You're mad," one of the candidates said. "I don't wanna do it!"

"Then you can't be a Spartan," growled one of the Drill Instructors - a twisted look of satisfaction on his face. "If you can't do this, go and sit down; the rest of you will form a line and jump out one by one."

The first child peered over the edge of the Pelican and stumbled backwards, his face screwed up in fear and he looked as if he was on the verge of tears.

"_Next!_" The Drill Instructor called, pointing the child - now quietly sobbing - to sit next to the other one who'd refused to jump.

"I'll do it," a girl smiled cheerfully. This prompted a look of surprise from the Drill Instructor, but he kept his tone stoic.

"Good girl. When you jump, count to ten and then pull the cords. Some discomfort will be normal."

The girl nodded and took a deep breath; she took a small run up, made a small squeaking noise, jumped and disappeared from sight.

"Next!"

Jack - the boy Mendez had called out earlier - trudged up to the edge of the Pelican and steeled his emotions. _If I'm not looking down, I could do it,_ he thought to himself.

He pivoted so that he was facing the interior of the troop bay, the Drill Instructor looked as if he was about to call the next candidate up but Jack simply fell back and plummeted through the air.

It was an exhilarating feeling; all Jack could hear was the sound of the wind pounding against his eardrums, he could feel the damp air of the night on his face as he dropped face-first towards the ground.

_8...9...10!_

A voice in his head had been counting down; upon reaching ten he reached for the cords on his backpack and tugged them. He felt an immediate tugging sensation around his waist and he was hoisted about five feet higher as his parachute opened up, he directed it over towards the green fog and tucked his legs in to his chest. The landing was rougher than he'd expected, he hit the ground with a _thud_ and nearly toppled over; an armoured hand reached out and caught him, Jack looked up and saw his face reflected in the golden visor of Kurt.

"That was a great start," he nodded encouragingly. "Only a few six year olds could have done that as well as you, congratulations."

A feeling of pride began to well up inside Jack; it warmed him up inside and - for what felt like the first time in weeks - smiled. The girl who had jumped before him came running up to him, she looked flustered - her dark blonde hair in a mess around her face - and grinned at him too.

"You were brilliant; you beat me by a meter. I'm Miranda by the way."

"I'm Jack," he said, quite taken aback by the amount of praise he'd received in the past two minutes.

"Yeah, I saw that Mendez person call you out. He's not very nice, is he?"

"No," Jack agreed sincerely, "he's not."

"D'you... wanna be friends?" She asked, a look of innocence forming on her face. "I don't have any friends anymore; daddy said that they were taken away by bad people, and he's gone too."

"Sure, the same thing happened to me. We've gotta stick together."

Jack and Miranda shook hands; the start of their long journey together - that would lead them down a road no other Spartan had gone down - had begun.

"Is this going to be a problem?" Mendez asked Kurt. The two men were watching the candidates from a distance as the others touched down from their drop - looking either terrified or beaming with excitement.

"I think not," Kurt replied. "Their friendship might just give them the extra motivation to survive; they'll need to have something they consider worth fighting for."

"Each other?"

"Spartans don't have a lot of choice, Chief. It's why I take the time to talk to others; I keep reminding myself that I'm fighting for good people, it helps. Spartan-IIIs have to learn to rely on each other as much as themselves."

"Want me to keep an eye on them?"

"They've already shown a remarkable amount of bravery and spirit, they'll be great Spartans," Kurt concluded; he folded his arms and felt an emotion inside him rise: Hope. It filled him up with a steely determination to make Beta Company the best they could be.

Mendez gave a laugh that sounded more like a bark: "I'll take that as a yes. What makes you think they're so special?"

Kurt unfolded his arms; he turned his head to his former trainer, considered the question for a second and finally said quietly:

"_Just a feeling..."_


	3. Section One: Spartan Training  2

**CHAPTER TWO**

1300 HOURS, APRIL 21ST, 2539 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \ ZETA DORADUS SYSTEM, CAMP CURRAHEE CLASSROOM-G, PLANET ONYX

Jack had never imagined that a part of Spartan training would involve him sitting in a classroom listening to Mendez plough on about different tactical techniques; it was one thing to talk about them, but Jack felt a wave of disappointment that they'd not been doing anything practical for over a week.

He had to admire the classroom however; it was a semi-circular enclosed space with a giant view screen at the head of about fifty large desks. Much nicer than the school he'd had to attend on New Constantinople. The building just next to Camp Currahee served as the academic premises, where they'd be learning about and analysing tactics from the Spartan-II Program. Kurt would occasionally drop in to see how lessons were going, nobody ever dared to interrupt Mendez or speak unless spoken to. Their initial assumptions of him being a man not to mess with reigned true, as a few weeks ago he'd confiscated a yo-yo from one of the candidates and caught them sneaking into his office to steal it back - the child had missed out on dinner that night.

"Spartan signals," Mendez tapped a button on a laptop and the view screen was now showing several diagrams of hand movements dictated by arrows forming criss-crossing motions. "You can't always rely on TEAMCOM to give orders, tech can be broken. The Covenant is finding more and more ways to decrypt our Intel and communication, but they'll never understand the slight movement of the head or gesture of a hand."

It was getting extremely hot in the classroom, the windows were open but the scorching sun blazed outside and the air-con was broken.

"You can see here, the two fingers swiping against the faceplate? It means "welcome", it's also used to form a smile - seeing as you won't be able to do so with helmets on."

Jack felt his head droop a little, the heat was swelling inside his head and his eyes were slowly closing. He was jerked awake by a swift kick to the shins from Miranda, looking half amused.

"- Closing of a fist is the signal for "freeze", should you see anything like a mine -"

On and on Mendez ploughed; his deep voice and gruff demeanour seemed to tear into their minds so that they never forgot what he said. It was with a great sigh of relief that the lesson had ended and they were allowed to go to drink ice cold water from the fountains and head to lunch.


	4. Section One: Spartan Training  3

**CHAPTER THREE**

2000 HOURS, APRIL 23RD, 2539 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \ ZETA DORADUS SYSTEM, CURRAHEE GORGES, PLANET ONYX

It was a blisteringly cold night, something the candidates had grown used to experiencing, as Chief Mendez and a dozen other Drill Instructors led them through the gorges of Onyx. They were surrounded by massive rocks and boulders that shimmered in the limelight, these rocks were a cryptocrystalline form of quartz - forming the namesake of the planet: Onyx. Whenever these rocks were looked at, a seemingly infinite number of reflections were produced.

A popular game had formed amongst the children during the evening, where they'd sneak out of their rooms and gather rounded pieces of onyx, and practice throwing the rocks at the dormitory windows of the Drill Instructors - each of whom were _loathed_ by all. As the majority of them were Alpha Company's washouts that bore a grudge against the Beta Company candidates, in short: they sought to make the lives of all the children as difficult as possible.

Each of the candidates were equipped with a small torch, a heavy backpack containing an assortment of food, water, batteries, radios, medkits and various other equipment that helped to weigh them down. They were all bent double because of the weight, knock-kneed and shivering as they felt the water gush around their feet and the rain pummel on their heads like machine gun fire.

The point of this exercise? "_Endurance_," Mendez had called it. _"Spartans have to be able to endure everything thrown at them; otherwise you won't survive a day out of boot camp!"_

After scrambling up a series of slippery slopes with water and wind combining forces against them; Mendez halted at what looked like a cliff edge, he peered over it and nodded with satisfaction. The candidates looked over the edge too, some squirmed uncomfortably and backed away - some laughed in either pleasure or in the hope that what Mendez was about to ask them was a joke.

"No joke," Mendez barked. "If you do not do this, you cannot be a Spartan. Steel your wits. Discipline your fear. Master yourselves."

The edge of the cliff was shrouded in a wispy fog, but the candidates could all _feel_ that the bottom of this dark abyss was going to be extremely far down.

"You will learn to rely on each other," Mendez continued. "You will form up in pairs and jump on my signal."

_Crap_, Jack thought to himself. This would not be like the night he'd arrived; there was no parachute to support him today, no safety precautions that would save him. _I've got to do it_, Jack's mind screamed at him, it felt like nails scratching a chalkboard in his mind.

He felt a hand slip into his; his legs instinctively moved with Miranda as she walked with him to the edge. This was it.

Jack stared at Mendez, who had his head resting slightly on his hand. For a moment he thought he saw the old man form the traditional Spartan smile he'd taught them, but it must have been an illusion. He felt Mendez's confidence in him, his look of steel as he bore his "pokerface".

An invisible hand had pushed him off the edge, his heart was pounding in his ears but all he could concentrate on was Miranda's hand in his. They fell together; their descent into the darkness was indescribable, unlike the night he'd arrived at Camp Currahee he felt something new rise up inside him: Enjoyment.

His heart slowed, the initial wave of shock had passed as he adapted to the fall. He was laughing, laughing to the world for the first time in months.

_Splash!_

Jack and Miranda broke the surface of the water; they were submerged in a hazy cloud of darkness, the water felt like napalm attacking his skin but he was alive, and in full control. Jack kicked his legs hard and felt the water part around him. Squinting, he saw patches of light above shimmering on the surface; exhaling all the way upwards and felt the bubbles around him rise to the top too.

He tasted salt on his tongue, everything under the water that had been muted came streaming back into his ears again as he took in a deep breath and shook his head free of the water. The lights he'd seen - it had turned out - belonged to several Drill Instructors who were giving each other nervous glances as Jack hauled himself up a rock and helped his friend up too. They sank into the grass on their backs, the adrenaline still being pumped around their body.

And then: warmth. A thermal blanket had been thrown onto them and they relished the heating sensation relaxing their muscles, just one step closer to becoming a Spartan. One step closer to getting revenge on the Covenant.

_One step closer to becoming the best..._


	5. Section One: Spartan Training  4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

1300 HOURS, SEPTEMBER 14TH, 2539 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \ ZETA DORADUS SYSTEM, CURRAHEE CLASSROOM-E, PLANET ONYX

They'd never had a lesson with Kurt before, they were usually tutored by Deep Winter (Camp Currahee's AI); each of the Beta Company candidates were clearly feeling anxious. But they all had a single resounding thought in their heads: _There was no way he could be any worse than Mendez._

The very mention of their chief Drill Instructor's name sent fear into the hearts of all the children. He was their mentor, their worst nightmare, but also the man they respected because he was the one who'd make them the best they could be.

The candidates were all lined up in single file outside Classroom-E. Deep Winter (Camp Currahee's AI, taking on the form of an old man in a snowy cape that blew snowflakes as he "moved") was making sure to talk to as many of the children as possible, he showed a lot of care and concern for the candidates and the contortions they were being put through. After several minutes of waiting outside Classroom-E, the door slid open and Kurt stood on the threshold. He saluted to the candidates - they saluted back, and then beckoned them in.

Jack noticed that he was not wearing his MJOLNIR armour today; instead he was dressed in a grey military jacket and casual fatigues. His dark brown hair was carefully combed, and his hazel coloured eyes swept over each of the children as they took their seats at desks.

Each desk had a white laptop on it; the screen had the ONI insignia (a black/grey 3D pyramid with two centre circles forming an "eye") on it - which told him that this wouldn't be any ordinary lesson. As was normal procedure however, there was the sound of metal draws sliding open as the children collected their pens and pencils to take notes.

"You will not need those," Kurt announced to the class. There was a silent sigh of relief being channelled through the children at these words, Mendez almost always wrote too fast for them to keep up and his handwriting was extremely scruffy.

"Today," Kurt continued, "we're going to be looking at something less than twenty people in the galaxy have seen. And then, I'm going to tell you a story."

The room broke out into murmurs of excitement, the candidates never heard many stories - most of the time they were spending the days training and drilling.

"Deep Winter, please turn out the lights," Kurt said to the AI - who nodded in acknowledgement. The room suddenly began to fade into darkness, the only light came from Deep Winter - who was adjusting his cape and making holographic snowflakes drift around him.

"Please put on your headsets, Spartans."

He had called them _Spartans_; it made a nice change from being addressed constantly as "trainee number 319". They did as they were told; the headsets were like large earmuffs they'd wear when it was cold. Kurt sat down and took a deep breath; he pulled out a flask and poured a few drops of liquid into a glass.

The laptop screens changed, the ONI insignia vanished and was instead replaced by a string of commands. Jack began to watch the video feed with rapt attention to every detail.

ONI ARCHIVE-G: VIDEO FEED 29254C

OPERATION: PROMETHEUS, CAM 6A

/ 00:01 - 10:52 \\

PLAY...

The scene shifted to the view of a Stealth Tactical Aerial Reconnaissance Satellite (abbreviated "STARS" for short). The scene depicted was one Kurt had seen play through his head over and over, seeing Team Wolf Pack of Alpha Company fighting against hordes of Covenant and each of them dying. The images of Shane, Robert, and Jane constantly burning into Kurt's brain... how they worked, how they fought... how they died.

K7-49 was a volcanic asteroid being used as a Covenant shipyard; it was only seventeen light years away from UNSC controlled space (a mere two week slipspace travel between the boarder and humanity's extinction). The volcanic activity was in fact a side-effect created from several high-output plasma reactors (used to refine metal in the construction of Covenant warships); the mission of Spartan-III Alpha Company was to destroy as many of these reactors as possible to cool the place down. Their mission was a success, but ended in a manner akin to (as Deep Winter compared) the battle of Thermopylae.

The footage the Spartans were watching wasn't like the previous vids they'd seen of Spartan-IIs battling the Covenant; the Spartan-IIIs were doing just as well as their predecessors, but were sustaining heavy losses. A noticeable pattern was that whenever one or two Spartans in a team died, the others would completely lose their unit cohesion and disregard all of their training in place for their thirst for revenge.

The fight was seven days long; the Covenant had arranged a massive counterforce and were slaughtering their attackers. The Spartans were losing their ground as the Covenant took up superior firing positions and cover; but the Spartans had managed to make K7-49 cool by 89% - more than enough to have the shipyard shut down indefinitely. Eleven minutes of footage could not justify the sacrifice Alpha Company had made, but it certainly left a profound effect on Jack. He saw his own face in one of the 300 helmets, he saw himself fighting the Covenant, he saw himself _beating_ them and winning the war.

Deep Winter close the video feed and the lights turned on again, Kurt was staring at the floor and coughed awkwardly before talking - choking back the lump that had formed in his throat.

"They were the Spartans before you," Kurt began. "Each one of them died for the sake of the mission, the point of the lesson was?"

Jack raised his hand, uncertain of what he was about to say to Kurt. If he got the answer wrong, his trainer may be offended by his viewpoint.

"That we all have to make sacrifices?" he suggested. "For the sake of the mission, to win" he added hurriedly.

Kurt nodded; he had regained his composure and gave Jack a short smile.

"Correct. But it's not all about winning, son. You saw how Alpha Company's unit cohesion was shattered when they were under considerable pressure, the enemy was able to flank them and take up superior cover and firing positions. You saw them all with the intent of gaining revenge for their fallen teammates, but it corrupted their purpose on the mission. By learning from the past, you will all be able to better yourselves for the future."

The class was silent, this truly was unlike any lesson they'd ever had. Each and every one of them was brought to an understanding that their survival chances were slim. It was imperative that they understood this, there was no way they could have their morale shattered - like Alpha Company - and have their faith in the mission dwindle. No, they would have motivation, the motivation to do the impossible and work to survive against all odds.

Kurt gestured for them to all gather round him in a circle on the floor.

"And now, as promised. I am going to tell you a story."


	6. Section One: Spartan Training  5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

0700 HOURS, OCTOBER 23RD, 2531 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \ CHARYBDIS SYSTEM, ABOARD THE UNSC PROWLER: _ABSCONDITUS_

It was too quiet. The engines of the UNSC Prowler (_Absconditus_) were almost completely silent; all that could be heard was a low humming noise that reverberated through the matte-black interior of the ship. Prowlers were extremely efficient at being the eyes and ears of friendly Intel; they were outfitted with some of the best stealth systems the Navy "eggheads" could offer.

Prowlers were roughly 163 meters long, and covered in stealth ablative coating, a black material that covered the ship's hull to make it appear as dark as the void of space. It served to refract UNSC radar systems and sensors the Covenant used to track their enemy's ships (whilst utilising the X-ELF Radar Detector themselves).

The _Absconditus_ also utilised advanced counter-electronic systems, and texture buffers to support its stealth prowess; but the most notable feature had to be the experimental ablative baffle (active camouflage) system. This was a prototype that had been reverse-engineered from the Covenant's Stealth Corvettes; for this mission, stealth would be one luxury that nobody could take for granted.

Kurt was sat in the Mess Hall, chatting with half a dozen crew members of the _Absconditus_; he was a much more vocal Spartan than any of his other comrades - who often felt confused and uneasy when talking to him. Kurt also spent most of his free time with his helmet off, Spartans would rarely show their faces to others, but Kurt seemed quite content on ignoring this mannerism.

Blue Team and the _Absconditus_ crew were feeling edgy; this mission was one of the most important ones that would deal a devastating blow to the Insurrectionists. ONI had recently caught a 'mole' amongst them, for months classified information was leaked from the Mole to the Insurrectionists' top dogs. However, once the Mole had been caught and ONI spent weeks questioning him about Rebel bases, he had finally snapped several days ago and had told ONI about a top secret hidden base in the Charybdis System hidden in an asteroid field. Blue Team's primary mission was to arm an MFDD (Medium Fusion Destructive Device, carrying a thermonuclear yield of 63 terajoules) and destroy the base.

The Mole had also hinted that one of the Commanders of the Rebel faction (Jason Kincaide) was present at the base; which constituted as the secondary objective, to capture him and bring him back to UNSC authorities.

_What could possibly go wrong?_

Blue Team had been debriefed; they'd gathered their weapons and were fully equipped for the mission. They had identified key areas of the base that could be breached by using Long Range Stealth Orbital Insertion pods (similar to the SOEIVs utilised by ODSTs, but outfitted with stealth and camouflage protection for quick strikes.

"Good luck, Spartans," Captain Nolan Reynolds saluted to Blue Team as the doors of their pods closed.

"Start the countdown," John ordered, "disengage on my mark."

Kurt tried to shift into a comfortable position in the pod, but it was a futile attempt. Though the LRSOI pod was larger than the SOEIV variant, it offered little manoeuvrability inside because the extra space was used to hold additional weapons.

John blinked his status light red, then amber, then green - a countdown. The pods rumbled and were released, it was as if someone had picked Kurt up and dropped him as the air was sucked out of his lungs. He kept his breathing steady, keeping his focus on the mission and on directing the pod towards the base. His fear evaporated, it would not do for a Spartan to engage a high priority mission whilst thinking about what could go wrong - that lead to mistakes and failure.

He could see how it was well hidden, the asteroid was extremely large and held multiple craters that were semi-enclosed by mounds of rock. The base itself had come into view; it looked like it extended _into_ the asteroid itself, it wasn't much of an aesthetic marvel, but it certainly could have been a well-guarded fortress.

"Look," Kelly remarked. "They've got heavy turrets scattered around the area, if we plan to get off this base we're going to have to take them out."

"I agree. They have an open firing field with decent range, exfiltration craft would get torn apart by them," Fred added.

"If our cover is compromised, we'll take them out the old fashioned way," John stated. "As long as we're undetected, we could simply splice their systems."

"Acknowledged," Kurt replied.

The momentum dampeners were kicking in now, their descent was being slowed down (not that it made much of a difference) as they approached their target areas on the base.

"Activate your HUDs," John ordered, "prepare for landing."

Kurt took a deep breath, the pod shuddered and vibrated. Suddenly, there was a loud _clang_ and his pod shook incredibly violently. It took Spartan-051 a moment to collect himself; he could see a small crater where the pod had impacted, steeling his wits he kicked the pod's door and snatched his MA5B from its holster, along with an M6C Pistol.

Kurt's HUD snapped to life, it adjusted his visor's polarization to match his surroundings and outlined the room before him - which was little more than dented and charred metal girders now.

"Status report," John barked over TEAMCOM. "Everybody green?"

Green acknowledgement lights winked at John, now was the time to focus on the tactical operation. Kurt felt at ease on the ground, he disliked being in space where certain laws of physics compromised his ability to fight back, he'd find himself greatly out of his depth if he was forced into a conflict in zero-gee.

"Kelly, you're our rabbit," John coordinated. "Linda, find high-ground, if Kelly finds any targets then you take them out. Stay frosty."

Linda and Kelly winked their status lights green and set off.

"Fred, Kurt and I will head through the base; we'll find a way to the control room once the Captain's scan completes."

They moved quickly and silently, their footsteps were light on the ground as the trio stuck to dark shadowy areas. They encountered no resistance, this bothered Kurt, it was strange to have made so much noise blowing up their front door and not seeing a single Innie. Fred noticed Kurt's standing stance, he recognised it from the countless other missions they'd had together whenever his comrade felt uneasy.

"Something's wrong," Fred said to Kurt. It wasn't a question.

"Look at the screen," Kurt pointed to a computer which showed four cameras looking in different places. "No Innies."

"Let's keep moving, we can't be alone here," John said, his tone was stoic.

"_Spartan-117, come in. This is Captain Reynolds, our scan is complete, but we're not reading any life signs on that base."_

"What's going on, Captain?" John asked, confused.

"_Be prepared for anything, Spartans. Something is stopping us from getting any readings on the base, it's a dark zone. Innies shouldn't have this kind of technology."_

"It's still a base," Linda spoke over the COM. "One less to worry about."

"But the turrets are still active," Kurt pointed out. "Every system here is online; there is food still at the canteen and residue of heat from the cookers - which were turned off little over half an hour ago. The Innies might as well come running at us with spears. This was a trap, it has to be."

At that moment, there was an obnoxious _clang_ from around them. John and Fred spun around, the doors around them were closing and large metal bulkheads were sealing over them. What sounded like an old fashioned kettle whistling sounded; John immediately recognised what was happening.

"Damn it! Kelly, Linda, go dark now!"

"What's going on?" Kelly replied. "Are you okay?"

John winked his status light red, as did Fred and Kurt. The Spartans could feel pressure building up, their heads pounding like a drum as they felt like they weighed a thousand tonnes. John had not expected the Innies to use the same method of incapacitating them twice, it hurt to think about what would happen to them.

_I will not give in!_ He willed himself not to succumb to sleep, to keep his eyes open. But he was tired, he couldn't move, Kurt and Fred had already fallen to the floor - the latter had hit his head on the table behind him.

It was too much to carry on fighting; John released his grip and fell into the darkness.


End file.
